


A Few Questions

by Mynameisdoubleg



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Astra Militarum | Imperial Guard (Warhammer 40.000)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynameisdoubleg/pseuds/Mynameisdoubleg
Summary: The life of a marshal in the Astra Militarum isn't easy. There is, above all, the pressure to provide victories. Defeats tend to raise a few questions, one of which is "Do you have any last requests?"
Kudos: 2





	A Few Questions

Marshal Haraguro stared at the holographic map and drummed his fingers on the desk. The symbols, impertinent and impervious to his irritation, refused to change. His new aide, Lieutenant Muguchi, nervously stared straight ahead and said nothing. The only sound was the percussion of fingertips on metallic alloy.  
The offensive had been a disaster. Hundreds of thousands dead in just three days of fighting, twice as many wounded, without making any significant gains or weakening the Tau xenos’ position.  
There would be questions.  
It would be easiest if he could just declare victory regardless and either transfer or liquidate any officer who dared contradict him, but the operation was too big, losses too high, too many would need to be silenced.  
“What about the artillery?” the Marshal said at last.  
Lieutenant Muguchi consulted her cogitator. “A 50-hour barrage by three artillery regiments was conducted as ordered, Marshal. However, when vanguard elements advanced it was discovered the xenos had already vacated their previous defensive positions and fallen back to a new line of fortifications.”  
“We spent two days shelling an empty hillside.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
He sucked air between his teeth. That would not look good. “Who ordered the barrage?”  
Muguchi blinked. “The … you did, sir.”  
“Insubordination! Are you calling your commanding officer incompetent, Muguchi?”  
“Nossir.”  
“Are you contradicting me?”  
“N … I am suggesting an alternative reading of the facts, sir.”  
Haraguro grunted, satisfied for the moment. His new aide was too clever for her own good, and would bear watching. “Well, who was in charge of intelligence?”  
Muguchi tried to hide her sigh of relief as she tapped again on her cogitator. “Colonel Shichimencho, sir.”  
Marshal Haraguro nodded thoughtfully. An offensive could not fail, not without a reason, and traitors or heretics were the best reason of all. They had a wonderful way of distracting attention. However, one had to be careful. Too many heretics, too high in the chain of command, and agents of the Inquisition’s Ordo Militum would descend on his headquarters: Could we ask you a few questions, Marshal? Would you like to sign a confession, Marshal? Any last words, Marshal?  
The trick was to find someone high enough to be a plausible scapegoat, but not so high that it aroused questions of collusion.  
A Colonel. Hmm, that might do. Risky though, and Shichimencho had served with him on the last two campaigns as well. That was the problem with recruiting regiments from the same planet--everybody knew everybody, so guilt too easily became collective. Someone newer would be better.  
A thought occurred to him. He smiled at Muguchi with all his teeth. Somebody new. Not high-ranking, but could be conceivably blamed for miscommunicating his orders. That would do nicely.  
“Thank you, Lieutenant, that’s all for now. Dismissed.”  
Muguchi twitched a little at the sudden smile and end to the briefing. She hastily saluted. “For the Emperor!” Turned on her heel and exited the office.  
Haraguro was reaching for the Master-Vox before the door had finished closing.  
“Marshal?” came Shichimencho’s thin and scratchy voice from the receiver. Haraguro could picture him: chinless, almost lipless and pale-skinned, with a tuft of flyaway hair sprouting from his otherwise bald pate. Pity it couldn’t be Shichimencho. Still, one used the tools one was given.  
“Colonel, it seems there was some miscommunication about the xenos’ force dispositions.”  
He could hear Shichimencho swallow. The man must be sweating bolter rounds. “Sir?”  
“I have a question about that.”  
“Sir?” Shichimencho squeaked. Haraguro was enjoying this.  
“Relax, Colonel. I know you provided me accurate intel. It seems some traitor and coward intercepted and altered your reports, in order to sabotage our offensive.”  
“Altered … the reports, sir?” Shichimencho’s voice was heavy with caution. Like a rooster unsure if the outstretched hand held food or an axe. “That would be treason.”  
“Sure, sure. Tell me, who did you submit your reports to on my staff?”  
“On your staff? A traitor on your staff?”  
“Was it Lieutenant Muguchi?”  
There was a long pause. “Is this how you want to play it, Marshal?”  
“If you think, Colonel, you will clearly recall, Colonel, that you definitely entrusted all field reports to my aide, Colonel, don’t you agree?” For an intelligence officer, the man was incredibly dense. Some misplaced homeworld loyalty perhaps—Muguchi was from the same world as Haraguro and Shichimencho. It was a wonder the Colonel had lasted this long. One had to harden oneself to these things if you wanted to survive.  
“If you’re sure. This will have consequences, sir.”  
“Excellent, excellent.” Haraguro rubbed his hands together. “Just send along your original report, would you, backdated to before the offensive. I’ll handle the rest. No further questions. For the Emperor!”  
Haraguro didn’t bother to listen to Shichimencho’s reply, simply terminated the call with a grin. Now that he thought about it, altering and falsifying reports was also a treasonous offense. After this matter was done, it would be a simple thing to clean up the evidence and dispose of the only other witness.  
The Marshal stood, stretched his hands over his head, the weight lifted from his shoulders, feeling quite relieved. This called for a drink. He pushed a button on his desk, buzzed for his personal assistant.  
There was no response.  
Frowning, he pushed the button again. Again. Held it down for the count of five. Still nothing. Maybe there would be a third name on the Inquisitors’ list, he seethed. He marched to his office door and yanked it open.  
In his assistant’s chair sat the vulture figure of Colonel Shichimencho. At his side stood Lieutenant Muguchi. There was a pistol in her hand. Pointed at Haraguro.  
“What is--this is treason!” Haraguro yelped.  
“No, Marshal,” Shichimencho shook his head. “This is Throne Agent Muguchi, of the Ordo Militum. The Inquisition.”  
“Come in, sit down Marshal,” said Muguchi, waving her pistol to a chair. “I would just like to ask you a few questions.”


End file.
